<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Tea in Glass Bottles by Visnovely</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28493421">Tea in Glass Bottles</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Visnovely/pseuds/Visnovely'>Visnovely</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Making Out, That's it that's the plot, they talk and then they kiss</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:02:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,306</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28493421</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Visnovely/pseuds/Visnovely</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The night before the (possible, if things don't go horribly wrong) end of a war, two people have an absolutely normal evening.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bernadetta von Varley/Hubert von Vestra</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Tea in Glass Bottles</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The smell of ginger rose with the steam, sweet but spicy at the same time. There were rules for when they were marching: nothing unnecessary brought along. Didn’t stop people from bringing them anyway; in the mess of merchants, camp followers and villages abandoned in a hurry, it was just a matter of looking in the right place. The line outside of Yuri’s tent went on and on, up until sundown. Bernadetta had no idea how an enchanted, gold-rimmed teapot wound up in a field in the middle of nowhere in Faerghus, and did not want to know. </p>
<p>The first cup, she poured into a mismatched set, borrowed from someone who knew someone who Dorothea knew (that was the second rule: nothing fancy on the battlefield). Leaving it on a stool next to the bed, Bernadetta gently tapped Petra’s shoulder to warn her. “Make sure to drink it while it’s warm, okay?” Petra simply grumbled in response, buried under a mess of pillows and blankets. She wouldn’t be getting up for a while.</p>
<p>The rest of the tea, Bernadetta poured into an empty bottle. The heat of the glass managed to burn her hands even through thick gloves, but there was nothing else able to carry it to where she needed to go. Hopefully, it be would quick, and she wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore. Just deliver the package and tea, and then go. Nice and simple.</p>
<p>Ducking out of the tent, the cold wind hit with full force; there hadn’t been any storms or snow, marking a mild spring compared to what was common in the Kingdom, but the constant drizzles of rain were still a bother, and it even <i>smelled</i> cold, no matter how many times Linhardt said it wasn’t possible. Bernadetta walked fast across the camp, keeping her head down both to pay attention to her steps, and to avoid the risk of someone noticing her. One of Yuri’s friends – the big one, she could never remember his name – was laughing next to a fire, surrounded by servants and soldiers. Good. The less people spread out, the better.</p>
<p>She knew it was wrong to think it, but Bernadetta was never comfortable with servants. Back home, the guards had been the ones to drag her to the basement, holding her down as she kicked and screamed. The other ones simply watched, and whispered; whenever she or Linhardt or Ferdinand entered a room, they mumbled amongst themselves <i> “They’re holy children. Their blood was blessed by the Goddess.” </i> And they kept whispering even now, about how Edelgard and Professor Byleth were divine envoys sent to make the Church pay for their arrogance. Edelgard had said not to mind, that those people were just ignorant and scared, but hearing it still felt like needles piercing her head; a pain that started up, and spread.</p>
<p>That was why she kept to the shadows, breathing exactly the way Shamir had taught her to. Keeping her presence to herself, footsteps light and steady, until finally, finally, she arrived. Tapping a foot gently against a wooden pole as an announcement, it was just a matter of waiting now. The drizzle was getting worse, but if Bernadetta kept the same pace on the way back, she could manage to get to her tent without much trouble. She could do this. She could <i>absolutely</i> do this. </p>
<p>Hubert came out of the tent, dark circles under his eyes, looking as if he was just waiting to use a swarm spell on the next poor soul who dared bother him.</p>
<p>This had been a terrible idea. </p>
<p>“I should go”. Nearly dropping the bottle, Bernadetta only managed two steps before Hubert gave <i>that look</i>. He did not to speak or even touch her, because just that <i>look</i>, the <i>only an idiot wastes the time of a spymaster, so speak fast or I’ll have you thrown in a dark hole</i> one, was enough to make her go in without an argument. </p>
<p>The only light came from a single candle holder in the corner that left only a phantom of warmth, but it still beat being outside in the wind. Compared to other quarters, the small room had only a small bed, trunk, stool, chair and a desk full of papers to indicate that someone was sleeping there at all. “I made tea. Petra was having headaches because of the wind, and it looks like it’ll keep going strong until tomorrow, I thought it could be useful.”  She kept her voice firm and her face turned away, so that he wouldn’t see her lie. “And Lysithea made cakes. You don’t like sweets, I know, but – ” She didn’t need to say the rest, since Hubert already knew how it ended. That was rule three: eat whenever you had the opportunity. Of course it would take a war to finally get Hubert to eat properly. </p>
<p>In the end, Bernadetta did not need to worry about being caught lying. When she turned around after having set everything on the desk, Hubert wasn’t even looking at her. Instead, he was sitting on the bed, pining something to his shirt. A flower. <i>Her</i> flower. The one she’d given him, and he had promised to wear whenever she was around. Her mouth opened on its own to do…something, argue, before he gave <i>that look</i> again, and Bernadetta quickly thought better.</p>
<p>They stood there in silence, Hubert as still as a stone and Bernadetta staring at the ground, half tempted to just shove a mug in his hand and run. She’d done what she had come there to do, and that was enough. </p>
<p>Except, not really, because by the time she’d lifted her eyes from the floor to say goodbye, Hubert was already ahead of her for the second time in a row, sitting on the bed and making a vague nod toward the chair. After the shock passed – again – Bernadetta turned around to serve the tea, giving one to Hubert and one for herself before sitting. He hadn’t asked her to do that, but she didn’t care; it was his own fault for being…the way he was. </p>
<p>It was the first time she was able to get a good look at him, even in the dark. Instead of battlemage armor, or his usual clothes (which <i>also</i> had armor underneath, and sigils, and daggers in every single hidden pocket that could fit), Hubert wore a simple white shirt and black pants that made it look like he had just crawled out of bed. The ruffled hair and dark circles Bernadetta was used to, a usual for their late-night meetings, but all the rest was…new, and terrifying. If he was letting her see him like that it meant that he was either probably too exhausted to kick her out, or doing it out of politeness.</p>
<p> Yes, that was it: politeness. Still more than most people got, so Bernadetta probably should’ve been grateful. Drinking the tea – to spicy for her taste, but she didn’t let it show – her hand kept moving to her neck, nervously touching the space where her earrings should have been. </p>
<p>“Not with them today?”</p>
<p>His voice was more composed than she expected, until she remembered the reason. Empty small talk. “I left them somewhere safe. In case something happens.” <i>Something being getting killed by a horrible monster and having one of the only important things I ever had stolen from my corpse.</i> “They were a gift.”</p>
<p>“For your twentieth birthday. From your mother, I believe.”</p>
<p>Her eyes widened. “How did you – “</p>
<p>Hubert shrugged. “You had gone to the capital to visit your family, and the timing fit. Unless I’m wrong.”</p>
<p>She did not know what shocked her more: the fact that Hubert remembered a minor detail from three years ago, that he knew what her birthday was, or that he’d actually brought the topic of birthdays up in the first place. It was like he did it on purpose just to make her feel awkward.  The pain came again, milder than before, feeling more like frustration – at herself and at Hubert. Especially Hubert. </p>
<p>He was taking too long to finish that stupid tea.</p>
<p>Laughter came again from outside, even louder than before. Must have been a different group than the one before, given the distance. Those types of gatherings became more and more common the furthest the army marched, always lasting late until the night. Still holding their mugs, Bernadetta and Hubert turned their heads to listen </p>
<p>“Isn’t that dangerous?”</p>
<p>“Usually, yes, but tonight is different. The Kingdom army doesn’t have enough forces left to risk another surprise attack this distance from Fhirdiad.  Or enough wit, now that Seteth has turned traitor.” He chuckled a little, as if it was all a funny joke. “Some of the soldiers, especially the ones who joined up later, are still…unsettled by the idea of fighting the Church, so it’s simply a frugal distraction. As long as they’re not killing each other over bottles or too drunk to lift a sword, we shouldn’t have to worry about spies or informants slithering in, because that would be too <i>dishonorable</i>  to consider.”</p>
<p>Ah, right. Of course. Obvious answer, stupid question. If only she’d thought a little more. <i>They’re holy children. They’re the ones who are going to deliver us from that false prophet woman.</i>  </p>
<p>“What about you?”</p>
<p>His voice shook her awake. “What?”</p>
<p>“I asked, how do feel? About tomorrow?”</p>
<p>How she felt. Always a dangerous question. It would have been better to lie.</p>
<p>So, of course, she did the exact opposite. “To be honest, I…never cared much about them in the first place. So, I guess I’m fine.”</p>
<p>Hubert chuckled, an empty, pitiful thing. It felt as if he was so completely tired over everything that laughing was the only thing left he could do; forget politeness, he was to exhausted to even consider having the decency of kicking her out.</p>
<p>Speaking of empty, there was nothing on her cup now, but Bernadetta stayed still. Just getting up and trying to leave would have made things awkward and him feeling guilty, so there wasn’t much choice except to stay and wait for Hubert to send her away. A few more minutes, and maybe it would be fine.</p>
<p>Except, they didn’t have anything to talk about, other than the usual <i>what do want to do after the fighting is over,</i>  which was almost as bad as <i>do you think can win? </i>  </p>
<p>“Do you think we can win?”</p>
<p>To be fair, Hubert had said worse before. On purpose, too, when he was laughing, and being charming, and putting on a smile hat made his green eyes shine; that’s when you knew whoever he was talking to wouldn’t be lasting long. He’d done it so many times at court, but people still let their guard down. All they had to was watch, and they’d know. </p>
<p>He wasn’t smiling now, at least. </p>
<p>“Yes,” he finally answered. “We have the numbers, the resources, and the momentum. The Kingdom may have a strong army, but that alone isn’t enough to win a war; without a proper strategy, it is all just desperate men throwing themselves against a wall to die.” A wall they were both a part of. “The Alliance was much more dangerous in that regard, and we beat them easily.”</p>
<p>“But, wasn’t half of the Alliance on our side already? And Claude surrendered. The Kingdom isn’t going to do that.”</p>
<p>“Exactly. They won’t surrender, because they cannot <i>afford</i> to. Many of the knights and noble houses have already defected; Seteth and Flayn running away made the Church seem hopeless, while sparing Riegan and the Goneril girl earned us a reputation, at the least. Rhea, on the other hand, won’t be so merciful.” No, she would not. “It all comes down to a desperate stand. If the Church runs, we put Fhirdiad under siege, and Rhea either fights, or the people surrender and bring us her head. No one wants to die for a madwoman and a naïve idiot too blinded by lies too see the rats in his own home.” Hubert stopped to catch his breath, eyes widening as he realized what he was saying. “I’m sorry. You probably did not wish to hear all of that.”</p>
<p>“No, it’s fine! I asked. And it’s better for me to start learning this stuff now, anyway.”</p>
<p>
  <i>Shit.</i>
</p>
<p>“B-because it’s important. Strategy. For tomorrow. I’m a general, I have to pretend to know something.”</p>
<p>She shouldn’t have said that. Anything but that, because it gave away a stupid idea that would never work and that she should have started to think on in the first place. Bernadetta was always so distracted by hearing him talk, but this wasn’t the Hubert who would eat dinner with her in the office between scouting missions, when everyone else was out or asleep; this was the Hubert after Arianrhod, who let himself get carried away in front of others, spoke too much about things he shouldn’t, and drank tea without checking for poison on the cup. She’d let her guard down, and he wasn’t going to let this one slip out of politeness. </p>
<p>“You…never seemed interested in this, before.”</p>
<p>“Doesn’t matter.” She cut him off, sharper than intended. “It’s a dumb thing to think about. Edelgard would never let me, anyway.” <i>Stop. Talking.</i></p>
<p>“She would, if you asked.”</p>
<p>“That’s –” Bernadetta tried to steady her voice again, before realizing it was useless. Might as well let this go downhill. “I thought the point of all this is to not let nobles rule anymore.”</p>
<p>“The point is to not let spoiled, lazy, sadistic idiots rule the continent because some lying creature whom they were too ignorant to question said that they could. You’re different.” Catching his breath again. They really were both too tired. “What I mean is, Lady Edelgard needs people she can trust. You are loyal, diligent, and willing to learn; as long as you do not burn your subjects at a stake, it could be arranged. If that is what you want.”</p>
<p>“W-<i>why</i> would I <i>burn</i> people?”</p>
<p>“Well, there is a precedence for it. But not in your family, thought, so there shouldn’t be any need to worry. This one in particular was a Gautier, I believe; something about the flames keeping the cold away.”</p>
<p>There was not much to be said after that. Bernadetta had her face in her hands, mind blank and feeling warm despite the cold, and the only thing that came through was more tea.  Yes, she should drink more tea. And then maybe dump it over her head and run away. It worked in the books, and even Dorothea had done it once, except the drink had been scalding and dropped into a drunk knight’s thigh. More tea would definitely be good. </p>
<p>Drinking half the cup at once made the taste of the ginger sting harder, burning her throat. If Hubert wanted any, he was too busy staring at the corner to ask. The small flame made only half of his pale face visible, like a painting. A cliché thought, but it was true: he had good features, like a statue, or one of those portraits in the halls of the palace at Enbarr. Scenery Bernadetta could do fine, but for portraits, there were things like remembering the color of people’s eyes, the shade of their hair, or what hand they used to write. Faces were always a blur, but for Hubert, even now, it was just a bit easier to see his sunken eyes and his white cheeks, with a just a tinge of red from the tea.</p>
<p>“But that can come later. There’s still much work to be done first.”</p>
<p>It was as close to as an apology as he could get, but it was enough. “Right. We can talk about it later.” She smiled, or at least tried to and hoped it was convincing. “After we win.”</p>
<p>It must have been, because Hubert tried to offer a smile of his own. The real, usual one, from the corner of his mouth. “Since when are you such an optimist?”</p>
<p>“I’m not. I’m a cynic.”</p>
<p>“No, <i>I’m</i> a cynic. <i>You</i> are a pessimist.”</p>
<p>“Aren’t they the same thing?”</p>
<p>“Practically. Semantics aside, such roles have their use.” Someone had started to sing a song; the wind made it hard to pick up the words, except for a few…rude terms, now and then. Hubert lifted up his cup, as if to say see? “Like keeping reckless idiots from making stupid mistakes.”</p>
<p>Of all the wrong things she had thought of in the past…however many minutes, this was definitely one the worst: <i>reckless idiot<i> was Caspar, picking fights with everyone that caused trouble so he could get their food, and feed the cat that’d been stealing from the kitchen. Remembering Linhardt on his knees, swearing and grumbling while he drew magical wards on the pantry door, and Caspar on a tree branch, dangling bait that wasn’t going to work made Bernadetta laugh. Hubert must have remembered too, from the way he did his <i>do you see what I have to deal with, I’m surrounded by idiots</i> face. </i></i></p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>The song was out of tune, loud, and even louder the more people joined in. Even with so many it was hard to hear, making it sound more like a blurry of voices than a song. It was strange, and comforting, and just a bit desperate.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“I will never understand why they do this,” Hubert whispered. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“What?” </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“This.” He made a vague gesture with his hand, as if it explained everything. “Acting this way. It sounds miserable, forcing themselves to do everything they can just to forget what’s coming for a second longer. I would just do what I normally would.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>But Bernadetta understood. It was for the same reason Yuri prayed when he thought nobody was looking, Linhardt buried himself in books and refused to speak to anyone, and she came to give sweets to someone whose birthday had been two weeks ago just so she wouldn’t be alone. Hubert hadn’t said it to be mean, but he knew it, too; it was obvious from the minute she had walked in there.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>This was a good opportunity. She’d gotten what she needed, and Hubert wouldn’t hold it against her if she left. But she didn’t. Instead, she walked to his bed, making sure to still sit at a distance.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“What would you do?”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>He could have sent her away. She wouldn’t be mad if he did. Okay, maybe a little, but not enough to ruin things. But he didn’t.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Well, if I had to be with anyone, better it be you than Caspar, or Ferdinand. I’d rather not spent my possible final night with a bloody nose.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Bloody no – Did you and Caspar <i>fight</i>?”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Ferdinand. And no, not a fight. Remember Magdred, two years ago? In the winter? We were spending the night in the forest, preparing for an ambush, but the fog was too strong; the idiot spotted my shadow on the floor, walking <i>quietly, like we should have been</i>, and jumped on top of me from a tree. I imagine there’s no need to recall the…<i>state</i> we were in, afterwards.” </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>It had been raining on that day, too. By the time the fog lifted in the early morning, you could see the Imperial flag in the distance, along with Hubert and Ferdinand, covered in mud, scratches and leaves, refusing to look at each other. Linhardt made a comment about the smell of wet dog, and Edelgard, who always had a speech ready, covered her mouth with her hand while listening to their report. It was one of the only times they all laughed together since the Professor disappeared.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or the notion that <i>she absolutely should not</i> laugh, but Bernadetta laughed anyway. Hubert made that face again, and stopping the giggling became impossible, to the point of having to cover her mouth, just like Edelgard. “This is all highly confidential, of course.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Don’t worry, I won’t tell. Or break your nose.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Good to know. I’ll only have to worry about my wrist, then.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“That was an <i>accident</i>!” She pouted. “And Ferdinand deserved it.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Oh, I don’t doubt that. I’m simply still impressed you got there before I did.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>This was normal. Hubert must have asked about that story three or four times already, mostly to fluster her, but also because it was pretty much his favorite thing to hear. There were other stories, other little things, just between them – or so Bernadetta hoped. Spend enough time with a person and it became impossible not to notice a few details about them, even for someone like her. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Before, when he said that the people outside were miserable, he was right. But it was reasonable to be miserable when you were about to fight an army of monsters. Hubert was the weird one, getting nervous over the simplest of missions and sitting down for tea and snacks after having seen half a city get blown up. <i>Or maybe this is his own way of freaking out. They’re all hiding something from you, you know they are; something terrifying, something even Professor Byleth is scared of, and that you would never be able to handle, just like last time. Or Hubert might just want to sleep. Not that it makes any difference, because you’d have come here anyway.</i>  </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Thunder boomed, close and loud enough to make ears ring. The rain fell hard, certainly much, much stronger then when Bernadetta had arrived, however long ago that was. People were probably scattering back to their tents in a hurry, to sleep or to find something else to wait out the night, so no more songs for now. It had turned into a full-blown storm, exactly the kind she loved, and not because it was an excuse to not go out. Storms made plants grow, people go away, and the noise and rhythm helped to forget her father’s footsteps on the other side of the door; they were…comforting, and nothing Linhardt babbled on about water and her Crest could change that. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Hubert, on the other hand, seemed terrified. He was frozen, hands holding strongly to the bedsheets, because even an idiot knew that rain in a battle deep in enemy territory was a bad sign. <i>You need to leave</i>. She tried to speak, but what came out was horrible mixture of a choke and a gasp that was beyond pathetic. Hubert turned, eyes widening as he remembered someone else was still in the room, and any excuse she could have given – that she could run, that Dorothea’s tent was nearby – died right then and there when Hubert read her like a book and gave a look that screamed <i>don’t even try.</i> They stayed in that stalemate for seconds, silently staring, working out each other’s arguments, so Bernadetta blurted out the only thing that came to mind:</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Everything’s going to be fine.” </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>After that, it happened quickly. Hubert smiled again, faintly. “I suppose so.” They held their cups, clinking them together. <i>Clink, clink</i>. I was only for a second that he brushed his thumb across her cheek, enough to make her realize <i>oh, he’s going to kiss me,</i> and enough to pull away, if she wanted. The height difference made a slightly awkward angle, but it was still sweet, and the tea left a nice taste, faint and warm. The more she tasted, with Hubert’s other hand resting shakily on the back of her neck, the more Bernadetta realized that she was really, <i>really</i> cold. Hubert tried to say something when she stood up to sit on his lap – the logical solution, really – though it mustn’t have been too important, given how quickly he was distracted by her hands clinging on to his shirt.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Both had no idea how long it was supposed to last, just that they wanted it as long as possible. Eventually, they separated, breathless and panting. Bernadetta felt floating, out of her body, almost like the drugs her mother used to give her to numb the pain, except that what followed was the complete opposite of numbness. A rush. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i> “I don’t want to go back to my room.” </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Hubert muttered something that sounded like <i>of course</i>, opening up space on the bed. It was a bit of tight fit, but they managed. Besides, maybe she wouldn’t even have to stay that much; she could wake up in the middle of night by accident and sneak out, if the rain stopped. Just for a few more hours.<br/>

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Hubert’s head pounded when he woke up; it always did whenever he slept too much – or the normal amount for most people, as Lady Edelgard said. It was difficult to see with a blurry vision, yet with daylight from outside it was still possible to spot a pile of shoes and coats thrown haphazardly on the floor, and the flower resting on a nearby stool. Not that he could move to actually see the latter, since the weight on top of his chest looked like it wouldn’t be moving anytime soon, but he always remembered to take it off, even in his worse moments of waking up with his forehead on a desk. Getting it wrinkled would have been a waste.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>The camp was quiet, so it was probably still early in the morning. They would have to leave soon, and there would be no more time to rest until the night. Sleeping again was not an option, but he could still lie down for a bit, at least until the noise grew. Getting up now would have just been unnecessary. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Breakfast. They should also get breakfast. Maybe something sweet, for courtesy’s sake.</i>
  </i>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>